The Beginning
by midsummerwriter
Summary: He had surprised her by showing up, at her office after hours, since their final session had ended so abruptly on his part.
1. Chapter 1

_ Just something that came to me today as I went through LTM season 2 for the third time. Everyone seems to do background stories and I have never done that before, they are where they are and I'm good with that, however Sweet Sixteen spoke to me...and here is the beginning...There might be more to this story, if I feel like it and there is any interest in it. I think this might turn into my version of the origin of The Line. That is where my brain is telling me to go...I don't know. This is also going by the assumption that when Cal stormed off it was their last session together, not the one they showed at the end of the actual episode._

_ Also this is to tie you over til I get my other LTM story out. Uhg, who knew writing sex would be so strenuous? Ba dump bump... _

The Pentagon.

March 28, 2003

7:25 p.m.

"We would be irresponsible _not_ to talk about Emily." Gillian said to Dr. Lightman, a touch forcefully, almost betraying what she'd worked so hard to keep from him. It was a secret that if he knew would prove the existence of the cover-up he insisted on and that had brought him to her office in the first place. And she still couldn't let that happed, her fear for a little girl she had never met kept her focused.

He had surprised her by showing up, at her office after hours, since their final session had ended so abruptly on his part. She hadn't expected to see him again after she had sent her report back to Andrews, she hadn't expected to have to continue to lie.

"Right." He drawled. He sat quietly, lounging, in her chair while she sat in the chair designated for visitors. She didn't say anything, a trick used by psychologists, letting him direct the conversation. "I've been cleared." He said finally, changing the subject still unable to talk about his family, to what he came to her office for in the first place. She could see he was thanking her with his eyes but she could also see that that wasn't what he came to tell her. "I don't think I want to do this anymore."

Gillian frowned, she hadn't been expecting that. "Naw, not this." He continued waving his hand about indicating the room. "I mean, this." He used a broader gesture. "Here with Uncle Sam." She nodded when she caught his meaning.

"You don't 'think' you want to work here anymore?" She asked repeating and confirming his words. She signified the work think, knowing he'd used it on purpose but to equivocate about his true feelings. "You either know or don't know if you want to do something."

He nodded his head, appreciatively. "I know I don't want to work here." He said then tilted his head to the side. She had read his book and she knew he was doing what he called 'reading someone' to her. "You're very good at that." He replied. "Reading between the lines." His hand moved back and forth in the air as he spoke.

She shrugged, affirming, and watched as his mind began to work something out. She waited to see if he was going to share it with her.

"I was considering going into work for myself." He said after a minute of silence and she realized that was what he wanted to tell her. It was almost as if he was asking her opinion. "To avoid a repeat of the whole mess." He continued, talking about his skills getting another mother and child killed in a possible future.

"I think that is a wonderful idea." She smiled genuinely, having no doubt that he would do just fine and be happier not in Counter-Terrorism.

He stood up suddenly, startling her. "Right then." He said, shrugging his shoulders. "See ya." He looked at her for a long moment then left just as suddenly as he showed up.

Gillian stayed in the visitor chair, staring at the spot where Dr. Lightman had been, trying to figure out what had just happened. She had the strangest feeling like she'd been tested and had passed.


	2. Chapter 2

_Hmm, not sure what to say about this. Tell me what you think..._

The Pentagon

April 5, 2003

8: 15 p.m.

Gillian set her pen down on an open client file, her eyes going to a square poking up from between the cushions and the back of the couch. She stood up and went over, her curiosity piqued at not knowing what it was and how she hadn't noticed it before. She pulled it out with a sharp tug and discovered it was the newspaper article about the shooting of Doyle's family on St. Patrick's Day.

It had been just over a week since she had last seen Dr. Lightman and she had only just began to feel secure again after her visit from the man that had threatened his family. Though it still made her cold to think that there were people within their government that would do to the lengths they did to facilitate a cover-up.

Her eyes went up to Dr. Lightman's book on the shelf behind her desk. She didn't feel any guilt at lying to him. She didn't feel pride at keeping the truth from him either. She did feel secure in the knowledge that she had saved a family, two lives, one of which was a young girl, from her part in the cover-up.

The door knob to her office twisted and the door opened suddenly, startling her out of her thoughts. She looked up, dropping the newspaper into the trash next to her desk as the very man she had been thinking about appeared, as though thinking about him had summoned him into being.

"Dr. Lightman." She greeted, using a sweeping gesture towards the couch, indicating he take a seat, more out of politeness than anything else.

He smiled, bobbing on his feet. "Bit late for you to still be here?" He asked and she gave him a mildly surprised expression. "Well." He waved a hand just so in front oh her. "I hoped, you know, that you might be." He conceded.

"Is there something I can do for you?" She asked, sitting herself in the white chair adjacent to the couch. He took a seat, slouching ungraciously in the center of the couch, looking like it belonged to him and she was the guest.

"Dunno if you heard, it's my last day." He started, smiling proudly. She nodded, she had heard. A lot of people were glad to see him go. He continued. "So I thought I'd come by, you know, and pop in for a bit."

Gillian regarded Dr. Lightman for a moment. His face told her nothing and she wasn't an expert like he was but she thought she heard something in his tone. "I would be more than happy to refer you to one of my collogues, in the private sector, since I'm not available for civilian consultation."

His face brightened, obviously amused. "What I meant to say was; A bit late to still be at work, don't want to go home, Darling?" She knew a deflection when she saw one. Though it didn't stop her from shifting slightly in her chair. There was a flicker of something in his eyes when he'd noticed her discomfort. However she had also heard something in his voice too.

"I could ask the same of you, Dr. Lightman." She raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

His face went completely void of expression. "And how is it you think so?" He didn't give her an outward sign that she was right, even his tone was even and calm, but she thought that was in itself a tell.

"If you simply wanted to tell me you weren't interested in counseling you would have, by bringing up me not wanting to go home, makes me think that was what was on your mind, not what I was telling you by me still being here at this late an hour. It's in your tone, Dr. Lightman, and in the words you choose. You might be able to see on my face my discomfort when you asked such a personal question but that's not the whole picture." She stated, simply. She watched his face, taking in the stubble on his face, the graying at his temples, his hazel eyes searching her in return.

"We would be bloody fantastic together." He said suddenly, his voice low and predatory, his eyes narrowed in on her. She opened her mouth to tell him he'd over stepped but he raised his hand, interrupting her. "No, not like that." He paused, flipping his hand over, and she felt slightly embarrassed that she misunderstood him. "Well, yeah." He continued and her embarrassment left, replaced by indignation. "But that's not what I meant." He laughed, amused by her reaction. "I mean as partners, doing what I do and doing what you do. We would be fantastic together." He repeated.

Gillian inhaled slowly, exhausted by the emotional rollercoaster he had her on. "I am happy where I am, Dr. Lightman…"

"Naw." He cut her off, waving his hand at her again. She clenched her jaw. "You and I both know that's a load of bullocks. I think you do like what you do, I think you don't like being here. Like me. And." He stood up suddenly, his hand in his suit jacket breast pocked. "It's Cal, Darling." He held out a business card for her to take.

Irritated that he was right she was tempted not to take the card, just to spite him. Slowly, she raised her hand and he tucked the card between her pointer and middle finger. She didn't have to call him. "It's Dr. Foster to you." She said and he smiled pleasantly.

"Absolutely, Darling." He replied, drawling, and left just as quickly as before.

Gillian looked at her hand, still raised, holding the card. His name looking back at her, somewhat mocking. She glanced at the trashcan with the newspaper article in it. She stood up and went to the shelf where Dr. Lightman…Cal's book was and picked it up. Maybe she would read it again.


End file.
